


rule number one

by flatwoods



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Gen, Gender Non-Conforming Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, LIKE TO BE CLEAR ITS TONED DOWN THOUGH, M/M, No Fear Entities (The Magnus Archives), but they decide to make peter and elias jealous for funsies like its very bitch4bitch, i can have little a gnc jon as a treat, i cannot express how deranged and silly and self indulgent this is, peter and elias arent evil here theyre just assholes its all just fun, they try to make jon and martin jealous but jon and martin dont care, uh this is an au in which jon and elias are exes as are peter and martin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flatwoods/pseuds/flatwoods
Summary: “Oh, right, see—the, the problem with trying to make someone jealous like that is it just shows how muchyoustill care about the other person, right? Like, I really do not give a shit if Peter hooks up with someone else. I honestly wish he would.” The man downs the rest of his whiskey. “It would make my life a hell of a lot easier,” he mutters into the glass.“I—I get that,” Jon says somewhat stiltedly. He’s still confused as to what exactly this guy wants, and who he is, and why they’re still talking.“What I’m saying is that I don’t care if Peter flirts with someone all night, but he’s proving to me right now that he would definitely care ifIdid. And I’m guessing it’s the same for your ex?”“Oh,” Jon says as he suddenly gets it."Oh."“So….” The other man taps his fingernails against his now-empty glass. Jon realizes he looks rather nervous. “Uh, I’m Martin, by the way.”
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas (background), Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 29
Kudos: 93





	rule number one

**Author's Note:**

> this au is soooooo stupid. hello reader im so glad youve clicked on this, my dumbest ever indulgence. please... enjoy

Jon’s job wants him to go to some art gala. 

This happens every so often. He works at a publishing house, someone in some famous sphere gets published, the publishing house gets a courtesy invite to whatever fabulous event they’re hosting, and for some godforsaken reason those invites keep landing squarely on Jon's shoulders.

He doesn’t want to go. He’s gone to these things plenty before, mostly before he’d split with Elias, and he hates them. He’d gone to this exact same event last year and brought Elias as his date, they’d gotten into a fight on the way over, and Jon had made judicious use of the open bar before leaving forty-five minutes in.

There are a handful of regulars at these places that he likes well enough to hold a conversation, but everyone else can quite honestly go fuck themselves. He doesn’t want to go. He won’t like it, he won’t have fun, he won’t successfully “network” or whatever the hell people do at these things, he hates the people and the food and the outfits and there’s a nonzero chance that his ex will show up. Fuck his job. He isn’t going.

Saturday finds Jon getting ready anyway, still telling himself that he can find a way to back out. He’s wearing a very nice sleeveless turtleneck and dark green slacks that he knows would be black tie-appropriate on a woman, but are certainly less so on him. He puts his hair in an updo and adds unnecessarily big earrings. 

He goes.

The place is, as he expected, gorgeous. The room has obnoxiously high ceilings, and one wall is entirely glass, looking out over the distant lights of the city. The gala is set up nearly identically to how it was last year—it’s got the same beautiful wall hangings, the same two long tables covered in hors d'oeuvres running down the the room, the same wealthy people in imperceptibly different outfits.

And just like last year, it’s got Elias Bouchard.

He’s standing towards the front of the room, chatting with a group of people standing around an iron statue. The statue is stunning, as is everything else. The statue is gleaming and the marble floors are gleaming and the chandeliers are gleaming. Jon immediately zeroes in on the open bar at the back of the room and gets a cosmopolitan in his hand before he can look at anything else liable to give him a headache. 

About an hour and three drinks later, Jon contemplates if it would be inappropriate to sit on the edge of one of the long tables. He’s made small talk with all two of the people here that he can stand, and now he’s surrounded by a bunch of rich strangers and his feet hurt. There are comfortable-looking chairs in corners and near the walls, but there are people he doesn’t want to talk to in most of them, and besides he thinks he might be liable to curl up in one and take a nap if he gets the opportunity. Jon settles for leaning against a table, sipping his drink, and trying to look unapproachably unfriendly.

A tall dark-haired man Jon doesn’t recognize wanders up to him. He’s dressed for a black tie event, but his suit doesn’t look like it cost more than a house, which puts Jon more at ease. He leans against the table next to him, and Jon braces himself for a horrifically polite conversation.

“Our exes are very visibly hitting it off right now,” the man says conversationally. 

Jon doesn’t know how to reply to that. “What?” he tries, and then “Okay?”, and then he lands on “Good for them, I suppose,” even though he’s not totally sure it _is_ good for them. Probably not good for whatever pour soul Elias is trying to get his teeth into.

The other man snorts. “No, I don’t think it is,” he says, voicing Jon’s thoughts exactly. “Look, I don’t think they actually like each other—I think they’re trying to make us jealous? I mean, I know Peter is, and your guy keeps fake-laughing at whatever Peter says and then looking over at you to see if you’ve heard him. He’s being really obvious about it, actually.” 

Jon instinctively wants to crane his head around to find Elias and watch this trainwreck happen himself, but he knows that’s probably exactly what Elias wants. “I shouldn’t look, should I,” he says.

“Oh, no, definitely not.” The man takes a quick sip of his drink, laughing quietly. “It is pretty funny, though.”

“I can imagine.” Jon sticks his hands in his pockets to keep from twisting them nervously. Even if Elias is publicly making a fool of himself, he still doesn’t quite like the idea that he’s got his eyes on him. Maybe once this conversation is done, he’ll head out early. “Uh, if you’re not inviting me to watch the show, then why…?”

“Oh, right, see—the, the problem with trying to make someone jealous like that is it just shows how much _you_ still care about the other person, right? Like, I really do not give a shit if Peter hooks up with someone else. I honestly wish he would.” The man downs the rest of his whiskey. “It would make my life a hell of a lot easier,” he mutters into the glass.

“I—I get that,” Jon says somewhat stiltedly. He’s still confused as to what exactly this guy wants, and who he is, and why they’re still talking.

“What I’m saying is that I don’t care if Peter flirts with someone all night, but he’s proving to me right now that he would definitely care if _I_ did. And I’m guessing it’s the same for your ex?”

“Oh,” Jon says as he suddenly gets it. _“Oh.”_

“So….” The other man taps his fingernails against his now-empty glass. Jon realizes he looks rather nervous. “Uh, I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jon. Jonathan Sims.” Now that he gets Martin’s game, Jon steps closer, leaning towards him. “Would you like to keep getting to know each other out on the balcony? Maybe place a hand on the small of my back as we walk over?”

Martin shoots him a surprised, relieved grin. “I’d love to.”

Jon leans into him more as they start walking towards the door to the balcony, which is set into the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. In the reflection, a shape he recognizes as Elias fumbles its drink, and he hears the delicate chime of glass shattering as Martin slides his arm around Jon’s waist.

\--

Jon manages to keep it together until he hears the door shut with a soft thump behind him. He slumps against the railing and cackles into his hands. He can hear Martin start wheezing behind him.

“He—he dropped his—”

“I _heard_ it break, oh my god—”

“Christ, I know it would have defeated the point, but I wish I could have seen his face—”

“God, I didn’t think this would work that fast!” Jon bursts into fresh giggles at Martin’s tone, which is delighted and a bit scandalized, like he’s shocked at their luck. He wipes at his face with one hand—he’s nearly crying.

Martin leans over the railing and lets out a _whoosh_ of breath into the cold night air. “That was mean,” he says, still laughing.

“That was fun.”

Martin hums. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Jon joins him in staring out over the city, if only to keep himself from looking back through the glass to see how their targets are still reacting. “Definitely not when it comes to Elias,” he says. Martin sputters.

“Sorry, that was Elias? _Bouchard?_ ” Jon freezes a bit. “Uh. Yes? That’s—that’s my ex,” he adds unnecessarily. Martin’s still staring at him. “Is that a… problem?” he asks tentatively. 

Martin shakes himself free of whatever he’d been thinking and waves a hand in the air. “Oh, no, absolutely not! Just—Peter was kind of a gossip. I heard some stories.” Martin visibly holds down a giggle. “Is it true he dyes his hair gray to look older?”

Jon tries not to laugh again and ends up coughing. “Uh—yes. He always said it was because the blond looked ‘undiginified,’ but yes, absolutely. How the hell did Peter find out about that?”

Martin snorts. “I’ve got no idea.”

“And now he’s flirting with him.”

“And now he’s flirting with him,” Martin repeats with satisfaction. He pauses as a guilty expression flashes over his face. “Wait, he—he sounds kind of, uh, vain and stupid, but Elias isn’t, like, a genuinely nice guy, is he? Did—oh, was I just a huge asshole?”

“I mean, you were, a bit,” Jon says neutrally. At Martin’s look of panic, he rushes to reassure him. “No, he isn’t, though! A nice guy, I mean. Trust me, he deserved that.”

“Okay,” Martin says, calming down. “Because, I mean, I know _Peter’s_ a prick, but he could have just been—”

“No, no, Elias had that coming. Seriously.” Jon slides his tongue across his teeth, unsure of how much to share with this essentially perfect stranger. “He’s also a prick. He wasn’t—I mean, he wasn’t awful—no, he was, but not in a, not in a _serious_ way—”

“I think I get what you mean,” Martin interrupts before Jon can tie himself in knots any further. “Like, Peter wasn’t a _good person,_ but he also wasn’t, you know, dangerous. Uh—physically or emotionally.”

“Right,” Jon says, relieved. “That’s exactly what I meant. He’s just… a dick.”

“Right,” Martin echoes back, smiling a little. The amusement in his voice is definitely directed at Jon, but it’s not at Jon’s expense. “We’re the good guys here.”

Jon snorts at that. He glances back towards the warm light spilling out from the gala. “D’you want to head back in soon? I can performatively get you a drink even though it’s an open bar.”

Martin grins, peering through the windows. “That’s such a good idea. Maybe in a few minutes? I think Peter went to the bathroom.” He turns back to Jon, taking in his relatively slight frame and light outfit. “Oh, unless—did you want to go in? Are you cold?” Before Jon can deny the fact that he is actually a bit cold, Martin’s face lights up. “Fuck, you should go in wearing my jacket.”

“That’s evil. I absolutely should,” Jon breathes as Martin slips out of his coat and places it over Jon’s shoulders. The jacket is big. _Martin_ is big, and broad, and he’s tall, and his freckles are very attractive. 

Martin’s very attractive.

“Your cologne smells nice,” Jon says, pitching his voice a little hoarser as he wraps the jacket around himself. Maybe he’s flirting to practice for when they do it in front of their not-awful-but-also-definitely-awful exes. Maybe he’s flirting just because he wants to. It’s hard to tell in the low light, but he thinks Martin’s face flushes just slightly. “You’re good at this,” Martin says. 

Jon smiles. “Good at what?” he asks jokingly, because he’s a prick (ask anyone), but also because he is not, in fact, good at this in the slightest, and he has to swing the conversation back towards humor before he embarrasses himself. 

Martin smiles back at him. “No idea,” he says brightly. “Forgot what I was talking about. You ready to go in?” Jon startles and laughs.

“You’re an asshole,” Jon says, tucking himself into Martin’s side as Martin opens the door. “Yeah, a bit,” Martin acquiesces, still with a note of laughter in his voice, and leads Jon towards the bar.

\--

Jon allows himself a glimpse back towards Peter and Elias as they cross the room. Elias, who has definitely seen Jon draped in Martin’s jacket, is very studiously looking at a framed painting that Jon clearly remembers him calling _gauche_ last year. Peter isn’t even pretending not to openly stare at them.

“It worked,” Jon says under his breath to Martin. Martin tries and fails to stifle a cackle, rubbing his hand over his jaw in an aborted attempt to hide his amusement. “How bad is it?”

“Oh, the carnage is bloody. I wish I had this on video.”

Martin elbows Jon in the side. “You’re _awful._ ”

“You think I’m hilarious.”

“You tell yourself that,” Martin says as they reach the bar set up against one massive marble wall. “What are you drinking?”

“Um. Whatever tastes the least like alcohol?”

Martin whips around with delight in his eyes. "Jon," he says, his face lighting up and his voice teasing. “You’re not _serious._ ”

Martin’s fun. Martin’s mean, but so is Jon (again: ask anyone). Martin is one of the good guys.

Jon lets himself light up in return. “Oh, I absolutely am.”

**Author's Note:**

> if people liked this i'll probably post more! i think this stands okay on its own (idk i slammed it out in a fugue state) and i don't have any further chapters finished, but i do have a little story outline planned out. i think it would be about 5 chapters and i would very much like to write it. yes.... this is me very obviously going pspspspspspsps comments. is it working


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